Mark of Grace
by Vaerin7
Summary: It all starts with a coin. A coin used to enter Dean's dreams. That intrusion begins the unfolding of a truth the boys aren't ready to believe. As they fight through personal matters, The Cursed One rises to exact revenge. She targets Dean for reasons unknown. As if Dean hasn't suffered enough, he's forced to give what he never planned to sacrifice. Can they win, or will they fall?
1. Dream a Little Dream

Okay, this is my first attempt at a Supernatural fic. I hope it's a good one. =) Anyway, I don't have much to say today. I'm thinking about making some Supernatural dolls, though XD A little chibi Cas in a trench coat, how cute X3 I'm going to try and not stray from my Bleach fics, but I have a lot of ideas for this fandom as well and it just may be difficult. Sorry ahead of time if it is, to all my Bleach readers. I did promise endings to all my fics, though, so don't worry about that. Though they may end a little later than expected, they will end! *determined face*

Dean: They don't have to, just forget about them. =)

Sam: That isn't very nice, Dean. They deserve attention, too.

Dean: *shrugs* Their time has passed. Besides, how awesome could their world be when they have such an annoying demon spawn lingering about?

Sam: ... I have no answer to that, but... Ichigo seemed nice enough.

Dean: Okay, I'm done listening! They don't need attention anymore, that's final. Now... I'm gonna go pay that demon a visit.

Sam: ... You don't need the demon blade to pay him a visit! DX

Dean: *hurries out the door before Sam can get blade away*

* * *

Chapter 1

Dean Winchester is ranked as one of the best hunters in the world, his brother right up there with him. Unfortunately, even _he_ has difficulties with the supernatural. Let's say... the time he sold his soul to save Sam's life, or the time the angels chased him about to be the vessel of Michael for the apocalypse. Perhaps when his angelic friend had a psychotic moment and claimed he was the new god. Maybe when he ended up in Purgatory after stopping a Leviathan... there are just so many moments to choose from. Right now, he's focused on the current problem he's facing... Metatron has cast all the angels from Heaven in a bout of vengeance. Castiel, the angel that pulled him from Hell, is now human and isn't taking it well at all. Once again, he was used by his brethren and his naivety led him down yet another dangerous road. Just one mistake after the next, he simply can't take it anymore. It took a couple weeks, but the Winchester brothers managed to cheer him up enough to take him hunting. While he's human, they might as well teach him the basics.

It's just a routine ghost, maybe even a specter, that's all it was _supposed_ to be anyway. The two thought it would be alright to drag the depressed angel along; they could handle the majority of the work and still keep an eye on him. Charlie was the one that sent them the job, the redhead having been scanning the net in her free time for them. They have to admit she's far more resourceful than Garth, that wiry boy is near nonexistent at most times. He's definitely no Bobby, though he's trying hard to fill those shoes.

The job is within a twenty mile radius of their secret lair, the home base for the men of letters, which should've been a huge clue for them. They ignored it. A job is a job and they were going stir crazy with Kevin and Castiel. People were being randomly attacked, their assaults varied, and the two were reminded of a specter they dealt with a while back. Right now, they roam the center of the town where all five of the afflictions occurred.

"Anything?" Dean wonders.

"Nope, not a thing," Sam sighs. "Are we certain it's a specter?"

"Not in the least, but it fits so far... right?"

"... Where's Cas?"

Dean stops and searches the area quickly, scanning over bushes and benches scattered through the park. He lets out a quiet sigh when he sees Castiel sitting on a bench by the pond. It's peaceful here, so quiet and still. It's probably a great place for the former angel to reflect upon things. The sun has been bright all day, glaring harshly down upon them, however the trio hasn't been very affected by it. The scent of dew from the rain last night plays upon the air, Dean breathing it in with relief at the sight of his friend. He points the angel out to Sam and the two continue with their investigation.

The last body was found in the bushes, in a secluded part of the park. It's guarded by trees and shadows, hiding the victim for a good three days before a jogger stumbled upon the body. She was a woman and was shot in the face, up close, by her boyfriend of two months. He doesn't remember the attack, lost his necklace that night, and sat in wait of the cops after he called them. The first thing that tipped the hunters off about the abnormalities of all this.

"You checked out the necklace, right?" Dean wonders conversationally.

"Yeah, I did. Apparently, it was worn for a week by the last four victims' lovers," Sam sighs. "Three men, two women. A shooting, a strangulation, a drowning, a bludgeoning, and a hit and run. All were killed in the park... during a date. What the hell is going on here?"

"I could ask the same. No ectoplasm at any scene, or on any of the bodies."

Sam takes a seat on a nearby bench to stretch out his 6' 4 1/2" figure, facing where Cas is, and Dean joins him. They've been all over each scene, interviewed every killer, and searched high and low for that damn necklace... they've found nothing. Dean leans back and looks toward the heavens, humming to himself as his fingertips tap the beat to a random song on the back of the bench. The sky is filled with fluffy white clouds today, though they do little to shield the world below from the sun. it's the perfect day, really, one he would normally like to spend working on the impala... or the cars in Bobby's salvage yard. Sam rests his forearms on his knees, those pools of deep blue watching the former angel in concern. The day is lost on him, the taller of the two long since distracted by their friend's suffering.

"You know... maybe Charlie was wrong," Dean remarks. "What do we know about the victims so far? Their significant others were frequently seen with a mysterious sexy woman, they all had that weird necklace, they don't remember killing their lover... but they did it to be with the mystery woman. Maybe we're dealing with a siren."

"I hate sirens," Sam mutters.

Dean shrugs... it's the best they have at the moment. After their short break, the two head back to Castiel. The former angel glances their way the minute he hears their footsteps upon the wet grass, standing curiously at the irritated expressions on their faces. He doesn't say anything, he hasn't said much since Metatron betrayed him, however his questions are written within his eyes.

"We'll tell you later," Dean murmurs. "Let's just get back to the ho..."

He stops suddenly, glancing over near the trash bin. Sam and Castiel are given a confused glance, and then Dean is inching his way over as he looks about warily. The sunlight had glinted off of something shiny in the pebbles, so close to the grass it would be easy to overlook. When it reflects the light once more, he knows for certain something is there. Sam is tense, ready to leap in at any moment should he need to... but he doesn't. Dean picks up a charm on a long silver necklace, holding it before him as he straightens his 6' 1 1/4" frame once more. It's an ancient coin. The coloring looks as though it could be made of copper, the edges rough and the symbols so smooth they're almost difficult to make out. On one side is a dove, on the other is a winged demon.

"Yahtzee! Check this out," Dean comments. "Tell me this doesn't look like it can be a cursed object."

"I thought we ruled out specters," Sam frowns.

"... Well... yeah... but if we're dealing with more than one thing, this is _definitely_ on my 'to burn' list. Come on, we can keep it in a box or something until we figure it out."

He tucks it in his pocket and the trio heads back to the impala in silence. From the rear-view mirror, Dean can see the bags under Castiel's eyes and the forlorn look that seems to cling to him. Like a lost puppy kicked by everyone that passes, the former angel looks broken. Dean hates that look on him. The older hunter has to admit, however, that he prefers it to the drunk and drugged out version he saw during his trip to the future... damn angels tried everything to get him to break.

They pull into the parking lot of the cheap motel, the three sharing a room with two beds and a pullout. It's a rather nice place, well taken care of by the owners. The bushes are nicely trimmed daily, the handyman on call for anything that may need fixing, and it would seem the paint is freshened on a perfect schedule. Dean had pointed this out before, having stayed once in the past, yet Castiel had nothing to reply. He still hasn't said anything all day and it's driving Dean mad. He hates silence, something Sam knows all too well, and he'll be damned if he doesn't find a way to get Castiel talking again.

When they enter the room, Castiel sits on the pullout bed and watches the other two wander. It can't be very comfortable, however he insisted he would be fine on it. Sam calls shower first, so Dean settles himself on the bed he claimed when they arrived. He lets his eyes pass through the room, taking in the décor in sea green and sand colors. The beach theme is pulled off well within the walls of their room. Pictures of shells and fish are on the walls, the lamps decorated with ship wheels and rope, and even the clock is surrounded by drift wood.

He pulls the necklace from his pocket and holds it up to study. Something about the coin looks so familiar; its been bugging him since he picked it up in the still of the park. With a frown, he gets up and moves to the pile of papers and files on the table beside Sam's laptop. He rummages about and pulls out a couple pictures, a few discarded leaves of paper floating to the floor in his distraction. Castiel turns his attention to the floor, though he's curious as to what Dean is thinking. Finally, the hunter slams his hand down in revelation and Castiel jumps a bit from surprise.

"This is the necklace!" Dean states. "This is the necklace they all had and lost after killing their lovers! I can't _believe_ it was just lying in the park!"

"Perhaps they really did just lose it, Dean," Castiel remarks quietly. "It happens."

"Have you ever seen a copy of this necklace in the novelty shops here?" the older Winchester scoffs. "I haven't. We checked their background, none of them knew each other. They haven't been out of town in _years_... there's no _way_ this is a coincidence."

He heads back to the bed, sitting down to play with the necklace until Sam gets finished. The springs squeak as his weight lands on the mattress, loud within the quiet room, and continues to sound as he pulls himself onto the middle of the bed. He triumphs in the fact his friend spoke to him, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. With a sigh he lies back to rest his head on the pillows. No sooner does he feel the fluffy pillow caress the back of his head is he lost to sleep.

Sam exits the bathroom in his sleeping pants a few moments later, catching his brother practically dead upon the mattress. He walks over and notes that the necklace is entwined in Dean's fingers, his hand hanging over the side of the bed. It's so unlike his brother to pass out so early, especially without locking up a possibly cursed object. Castiel is gazing out the window, watching the stars twinkle overhead with a heavy heart. Kevin still hasn't answered his biggest question... why him? There were so many angels up there, Naomi was _right there_... but Metatron chose _him_ for the last ingredient. Sam can see the train of thought and quickly reroutes it.

"How fast did Dean fall asleep?" he wonders. "I haven't been that long and he was wired when I started my shower."

"It was almost immediate. I figured it would happen eventually, he hasn't been sleeping well this past week. I thought I would just let him rest, he needs it."

"Was he holding that necklace when he passed out?"

"... Didn't he set it on the table?"

Sam darts for Dean, grabbing the necklace away from him. The coin upon the chain is warm and seems to pulse with a heartbeat in his palm, drawing a gasp from the taller hunter as he nearly throws it to the floor. The older Winchester doesn't stir a bit, his expression so placid it's as though he's in a coma. Sam's heart skips a beat, his eyes wide with fear as they turn to Castiel. It's so quiet, time seeming to slow as he searches for those blue eyes. He can hear the clock's ticking loud within his ears, the whir of the fan decelerating as it attempts to drown out the clock, and his heart slams against his ribs. The former angel once again has 'the look' on his face, the one that tells anyone that knows him he's blaming himself for this. It's not the expression Sam was hoping for, his mind already struggling to come up with an explanation that will make everything okay again.

"Cas..."

"I should've been paying better attention..."

"No, this isn't your fault," Sam states firmly. "Nothing you could do would've changed this, okay? That necklace isn't cursed, a siren doesn't work with cursed items. They infect a target through saliva, not objects."

Castiel nods, though his eyes say he's still guilty. When it comes to Dean getting hurt, Sam has noticed the brunette takes those hits the hardest. He's always been more attached to the older hunter, though both brothers are his good friends. He welcomes being family with the Winchester boys, it's a refreshing difference from his backstabbing brethren, but he'll always stray closer to Dean than Sam. If it weren't for Naomi's blood lust where Dean was concerned, he probably would've stayed under her control. As it were, he would challenge Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and any other challenger to stay with the dark haired male.

"Will he be okay?" Castiel asks.

"I don't see anything wrong," Sam frowns as he checks his brother over. "He doesn't have a lover, so he shouldn't be a target. He hasn't been around any local women either. In fact, he hasn't been around a random woman since that Amazon incident... sort of turned him off of the whole sleeping around thing."

"But... he'll be okay?"

"It's probably just like you said," the younger hunter sighs. "He hasn't been sleeping like he should, he's swapped beer for coffee and pop, he probably just fizzled out. We'll give him twenty-four hours to wake and then think of something to do. In the meantime, I need some sleep. I'll go see if I can dig up anything else about this mystery woman in the morning. You can stay here and watch over him while I'm gone, okay?"

Castiel nods and Sam retreats to his bed. The room is filled with the sound of the squeaky springs, the heat within the room softened only by the steady thrum of the overhead fan. The former angel waits until Sam is settled before he backs up to his pullout bed, getting comfortable on the lumpy mattress and lying so he can watch Dean until he falls asleep himself.

Dean groans and stretches, yawning as he listens to the satisfying pop of his spine. He's never felt so good, like he's slept for weeks after so many nights spent awake. He sits up and looks around, finding himself right where he fell asleep. He hadn't meant to do so, but staying awake for a week on nothing but caffeine finally took him out. Castiel warned him... that's what he gets for not listening. Not that he'd ever admit that to the blue eyed man.

The room seems different somehow to him, so silent and slightly dark. He realizes that the blinds have been pulled to keep out the sun. on the table lie the remnants of Sam's dinner and the scattered papers of before, the laptop shut and set aside. The bed beside his is made, the pullout folded back up into the brown couch and their bags are neatly placed atop it with the throw pillows.

"Sammy?" he calls out.

"Sam's not here."

Dean jumps a bit at the unexpected voice, turning to see Castiel exiting the bathroom. He looks fresh from the shower, just buttoning up his dress shirt. A flash of skin, still a bit moist from the shower, peeks from the unbuttoned area. Dean looks away, uncertain why and knowing it really doesn't matter. The other male finishes buttoning his shirt and sits down on the edge of Sam's bed. Nervousness creeps through Dean's system, though he doesn't understand why. He's always just found it to be awkward when two guys are sitting on a bed in a motel. Okay, not him and Sam... just him and Castiel. It's completely understandable in his opinion. He quickly stands and starts pacing around the room.

"Where'd that necklace go?" he wonders.

"Sam burned it, just to be certain it wasn't a cause of all this," the brunette informs. "You've been asleep for a long while and he was worried you wouldn't wake. It was just a precaution. He's out looking for the mystery woman that may have sent the necklace into circulation."

"... Ah. Good idea," he murmurs. "I'll just get ready and go meet up with him."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Castiel says. "Sam was adamant you stay here and try to relax, you've been putting off sleep for too long. It's not healthy."

Dean is about to argue, but a wave of weariness touches him and he relents. He strides over to the window and looks outside. It's afternoon, the sun high and the birds singing happily, but he feels as though it's still night. His inner clock has been out of whack for a while now, he needs to get it fixed. He can hear Castiel moving about the room, striding over to him, and he gets a shiver along his spine. It's not one born of fear or trepidation... but pleasure and expectation. He's not sure where it came from or why he's having it, it's not normal to feel that way around his friend. He turns, his nose inches from Castiel's. He gasps and quickly backs away, his back hitting the wall near the window in his haste.

"Cas, we discussed this," he frowns. "Personal space, man!"

"Mm-hm," he hums as he steps closer again. "It's a discussion I go over frequently... it makes no sense to me."

"... Why are you... Mm!"

Dean is cut off when Castiel's lips connect with his, his mind blowing with a barely audible 'boom' in the background. Green eyes watch the former angel in complete shock. Slowly, the hunter relaxes and his lips work against Castiel's. He doesn't know why, he just knows the other has been a magnet to his hormones since he rebelled. Deep within his mind Dean is swimming in confusion, drowning in fear and apprehension. He vaguely hears himself screaming that something isn't right, yet the kiss is heating up and Castiel's hands are on his hips. Dean weaves his fingers in brown locks, tugging slightly rough as their teeth click together. He can smell his shampoo on Castiel, taste the mint from their mouthwash still lingering within his mouth, and moans quietly at the sensations. There's just something about the other wearing his own scent that drives him into a primal sort of need. He's surprised when the former angel grips his thighs and lifts him up, though he keeps enough mind to wrap his legs around Castiel's waist.

The next thing he knows, the 5' 11" male drops him onto the mattress and he's over him. Those blue eyes gazing straight into Dean's soul, the warmth from his body soaking into his own and drawing forth that want... that need... until there's no chance of ignoring it. Castiel sucks on his neck, nipping and kissing down the column as Dean pants. He's aroused, something he never thought would happen with his savior and friend. It's hot and painful, yet so much stronger than his trysts with those he's picked up before. He's losing all control at the touch from the man above him... and he's happy to hand it over for once. Castiel grinds his hips into Dean's arousal, both of them groaning in pleasure.

"Cas," Dean says in a husky tone. "We should stop."

"Why? Aren't you enjoying yourself? Don't you want this?"

"Ah... of course I do," Dean breaths out. "I just... I don't want to... hah... ruin everything."

"I don't see the problem," the former angel remarks. "I love you, you love me... this is perfect."

Dean's eyes are wide once more, staring into eyes eaten by black pupil in their desire. Castiel stills, realizing now isn't the time to press the hunter into sex. He watches realization overcome the shock. Dean's subconscious is fighting like hell with his pleasure addled brain. His body wants more, he wants to pull Castiel to him and let him take him any which way he wants... but deep down his mind disagrees. It's like he's lost in a dream and is watching everything from the sidelines.

"You... you love me?" he murmurs in disbelief.

"Dean, I rebelled against Heaven for you," Castiel comments. "Twice. I came to you during a war and put you first, I would do anything for you. Of course I love you."

The heat inside him is growing rapidly with the confession said so matter-of-factly. His skin already holding a sheen of cool sweat, which is definitely not the norm for him. It's getting unbearable, the desire flowing through him so recklessly and heedlessly, and by now the only voice sounding in his mind is the one wracked with need. He pulls Castiel down to him and kisses him again, all his emotions pouring into it... whether known, denied, or undiscovered. The brunette responds eagerly, hands sliding up beneath Dean's shirt to touch overheated skin. Dean pulls away with a hiss, those fingers tracing over his abs and pecs with loving caresses. It's such a gentle touch, so soft and careful, as though he were made of the most fragile of gems. It serves to do nothing more than rile Dean's instincts, which demand he bend over and submit to the man above him. The idea is beginning to sound better and better with each stroke along his body. Never before has his arousal taken over so much of his common sense, overthrown so much of his control. The smell of musk, sweat and sex has thoroughly addled his brain.

"Oh god," Dean moans as his hips buck unconsciously. "Ah... I wish this could last forever."

"Mm... me, too."

Castiel goes back to Dean's throat, the other facing the side to give him more room. An eager submissive relenting to their dominant's will. Somewhere between the gentle fingers and his neck, the former angel slipped off his hunter's shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. One finger is drawing lazy designs on his shoulder where his hand print once laid. Dean tries to concentrate on that, unable to see, yet can't figure out what they are. He decides they're just random and mean nothing, sighing in content as his friend takes complete control. Just as he's finally letting go, Castiel grips his shoulder tightly and a horrid pain burns through him. Dean screams, eyes popping open to stare at the man atop him. He doesn't register any remorse for what he's doing, just a self satisfaction that blares loudly 'I'm not the Castiel you know'.

Dean wakes, his scream carrying from his dream and startling the two in the room. It seems to echo within the enclosed area, so sudden and filled with pain and betrayal he isn't completely convinced it came from his own throat. Sam shifts in surprise, falling to the floor with a thump, and Castiel hits his head on the wall he's inched too close to. The minute Dean sees the shocked faces around him and the moonlight filtering through the window, he cuts off his scream. His heart is racing, a phantom pain throbs in his shoulder, and he can still smell the scent of his flesh burning. He pants as he attempts to calm down, telling himself continuously that it was only a dream.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks in a sleep-fogged worry.

"I'm fine," Dean breathes out shakily. "Just a... nightmare, I guess. What happened?"

"You fell asleep with that weird necklace," the younger Winchester comments. "I put it away in a curse box, just in case I needed to burn it. It's likely you just wore yourself out, though. Cas stayed with you all day while I looked for the mystery woman, never found her. I honestly don't think we're dealing with a siren, Dean. If we are, she must've moved on."

"Wait... all day? How long was I out?"

"... Long enough for us to consider African Dream Root."

Dean groans and falls back onto his pillow, he can feel Castiel's eyes boring into him. His dream flashes before his eyes at the feeling, a shiver racing along his spine. There's a lingering want from the dream, the scent of musk and taste of mint haunting him, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of that dream being reality... not the first part anyway. His hormones beg him to lay down for the man beside him, his begging and moaning from within his dream drawing a blush to his face as they repeat in his mind. Man is he glad they didn't resort to that, it would've been mortifying if they caught him in bed with their former angel. He draws his hand down his face with a sigh, sliding from bed and heading to the bathroom. His entire body hurts with tensed muscles, a hot shower will help to relax them.

Castiel watches cautiously, uncertain what to say or do to help his friend. When the bathroom door closes, he exchanges a worried glance with Sam. Neither makes a move to hound Dean, neither says anything more about the strange situation... but both are thinking about what they'll ask later.

The older Winchester sighs beneath the steaming spray, groaning happily as his muscles loosen in the heat. He rubs his sore shoulder, cringing at the sting upon the sensitive skin. It's far too sensitive for his liking. Halfway through his shower, that dream strikes him again and his libido responds favorably. With a groan, he reaches to turn the water to cold. His hand hesitates only a moment before making the switch, the hunter horrified at the realization he was actually considering jerking off to a fantasy staring Castiel.

Once he's cleaned up and the tension has dissipated, along with his arousal, Dean steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. He dries off, glancing in the mirror at his shoulder. It's a harsh red, strange lines shimmering in the light as though he's actually been burned. He moves closer to the mirror, shifting his shoulder to catch the light on different areas. The mark that shows upon his skin in the light... is the sigil Castiel drew in his dream. Well... he can't be a hundred percent on that, he didn't actually _see_ it, but the random designs remind him of it. The lines are as thin as fishing wire, almost as though he was branded with it, and the color looks like molten gold was poured into his skin.

"What the hell?" he murmurs.

He frowns and looks it over again, finally backing away and grabbing his shirt. He pulls it on, checking the mirror to make sure the mark is covered. He doesn't know what it means or what it's from, but he _does_ know he isn't going to worry the others with it. Once he's positive the gold will be overlooked, he pulls on some clean sleeping pants and heads back out to the room. It's still late, around midnight, and Sam has already fallen back into slumber. Castiel is sitting on his bed now, waiting for Dean to finish up. At the sight of him, the hunter fears he'll have to take another cold shower. He curses mentally and pushes that emotion down will all the others he's determined to ignore.

"What did you dream about?" he wonders in that ever husky tone.

"N-nothing big," Dean stammers with a shudder.

"Do you think the necklace had something to do with it?"

"Cas... I'm just really tired right now," he states wearily. "How about we talk about this in the morning? We both really need some sleep."

"... Of course," the brunette replies. "Good night, Dean."

He lies back and stares at the ceiling, listening to Dean slide back into bed. Once he's positive the other is out and sleeping comfortably, he closes his own eyes and drifts off. Within the room a soft chuckle drifts about lazily, the curse box popping open to radiate a soft glow from the coin. Castiel cringes in his sleep, rolling away from the glow, and the boys bury themselves beneath their pillows. Slowly, the necklace fades and disappears. There's a breathy sigh, a hint of fondness held within the noise, and then everything goes completely still.

Dean wakes the next morning to two accusing glares, a hint of worry swimming beneath. It's nothing new, it's actually expected after his long sleep, yet that doesn't mean it's not irritating. The tension held between them all is palpable, suffocating the green-eyed hunter in ways silence has never gotten the chance. It brings a slight feeling of apprehension and guilt, the knowledge of a lie on the tip of his tongue, and a weight in his belly that brings on nausea. He raises a brow and carefully disentangles himself from his blankets, playing it cool when he feels anything but. Sam waits until he's upright to send the expectant look to his brother. Dean, however, is looking past them at the stand. The curse box is open and the necklace is gone.

"Uh... Sammy, did you burn the necklace?" he wonders.

"No, why?"

"... It's gone."

Sam and Castiel both turn their heads so fast they'll likely have an ache, their eyes wide at the sight of the missing jewelry. Dean is happy his dream is kicked to the side for now, he had no clue what he was going to say about it without blushing like a virgin, but the loss of the coin only serves to worry him more. If it was cursed, that dream was likely a product of the creature it's tied to. All the more reason to keep his mouth shut on the sigil... he doesn't need Sam treating him with kid gloves.

"Did anyone see what happened to it?"

"No, I didn't even think to check on it," Sam admits. "It was in a curse box, no one knew we had it... or at least... I didn't _think_ anyone did."

"It was still in the box when Dean went back to bed," Castiel offers. "I do vaguely recall a strange glow when I was trying to get back to sleep. I thought it was a car going by."

"... So did I," Dean frowns. "I just covered my head with a pillow. Do you think it was the coin? None of us opened the box and we didn't hear anyone come in..."

Sam's eyes are filled with concern, mulling over a thought he's not ready to voice yet. Dean doesn't blame him, the ideas running through his own mind aren't exactly nurturing hope. Castiel is quiet once more, unsure what to say and thinking it best if he just keeps to the sidelines. He's still under the impression that his help pretty much ensures defeat.

Just to be sure, the trio heads out to go over the town again. It's quiet just like the day before, yet there's something in the air... something strange. Like a veil has been lifted from the neighborhood and now their eyes are finally open. It's an unsettling feeling, however they shake it off and continue on their way.

Asking around the place brings the knowledge that there aren't any more deaths, good news on a slightly cloudy day that threatens rain. Speaking with the police brings up nothing, it's like the deaths of before never happened... as if those people never existed. It's something they've never come across before, unsettling them even though they thought they had seen and experienced everything. Just to be certain Sam gets on a computer in the library, only a few buildings down from the police station, searching for any of the victims through the web. There isn't a single file on them; not a birth certificate, newspaper clipping, obituary... nothing.

"You've got to be shitting me," Dean hisses out within the silent room. "Nothing? Absolutely nothing? This has never _happened_ before! What the hell are we dealing with, Sammy?"

"I've been thinking, Dean," Sam sighs out. "What if those people never existed to begin with? What if this whole thing was a rouse to draw us out? This could've been a trap to begin with."

"There's no reason for anyone to try and trap you," Castiel comments from the table behind them. "This isn't the work of any demon I've ever come across, nor is it a ghost or specter. This is angel activity in a way, but the only angel that could do it is Metatron... and his specialty was never something like this. He's just a scribe after all."

Dean lets his head fall to his hands, an almost whining groan emitting from his lips. All he needs right now is to be the target of yet another new creature. They're in no condition to fight something they haven't the information on, especially if that something is like a siren. Dean isn't known for his triumph over sirens after all... neither is Sam. Though... a part of him is curious to know what it would appear to him now. Last time it was a brother he could trust, but this time he has to wonder if it wouldn't be Castiel. The thought stirs the memory of his dream, his sex harden minutely before he forces his libido under control.

"What do we do now?" he mutters to no one in particular.

No one answers, the trio lost for the next step. Dean is hoping with everything he is that the coin has nothing to do with his dream, he can't deal with all this on top of a possibly deadly sigil. He looks at his companions, his eyes dropping to the floor at the thought of what he's not telling them. Sam doesn't notice, however Castiel does. Though he doesn't say anything, Dean knows he'll be questioning him when they're alone... something he's not looking forward to.

* * *

I apologize if they're out of character =( I tried really hard to keep them in character as much as possible T^T I have up to chapter 20 finished, all of which are being reviewed by my Supernatural mega-fangirl friend before I post them. She makes certain everything is good enough for my readers =) She said up to chapter 10 is ready to post, the rest she's yet to read over. For those reading my Bleach fics as well, I'm rereading 'Derailed' now so I can finish that one. I'm sorry if it's not the one you wanted, but it was the closest to the end. =(

Dean: It doesn't need an ending!

Sam: What the hell is up with you and Shiro? It's like you're both caught in an endless pissing contest =(

Dean: I can't help I'm better than him and he won't admit it!

Sam: ... Wow. I keep forgetting how big your ego is. =(

Dean: ... That's supposed to be an insult, right? =(

Sam: *facepalm*


	2. Nurse and Confidant

Hello everyone! Sorry I've been down and out lately, I didn't mean to be. I got over my cold, but my sinus drainage is so bad I've been gagging on it T^T Sick, but completely true. I also got one of those Funloom Bracelet things... how many of you got into those? I created a Finn the Human bracelet ;p I always said I had no clue why people watched that show... and then I got stuck on it ^^; How lame. Anyway, I've been thinking about making dolls for Supernatural and Adventure Time XD I already created the patterns... Dean's hair is going to be hell though =( Especially since I'm such a perfectionist when it comes to that T^T You don't want to hear about all that, do you? You want to read the update! Well... go ahead. Nothing's stopping you.

Dean: I beg to differ. The werewolf we've been hunting is stopping us! DX

Sam: Dude, seriously? Why the hell are you reading Destiel fanfics?

Dean: ... I... uh... read it for the plot! *blushing*

Sam: Sure you do. *rolls eyes*

Dean: Shut up and hand me that damn gun! DX

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Nurse and Confidant

The sun is going down when they finally reach their hideout. The wind is a gentle breeze through the sparse trees, carrying a chill upon it they can't feel in the impala. The moon will be gone tonight, lost to the darkness of a new stage. The bunker is a hulking building, towering over them as they park and looming like an imposing figure as they exit the car. Dean doesn't like to call it home, he's afraid it'll be taken away like everything else when he does. Besides, secret lair sounds _so_ much cooler! Ever since they attempted to seal the gates of Hell... and failed, though more due to the fact Dean simply can't function in society without Sam... Kevin and Castiel have been living within the men of letter's bunker with the Winchesters. It's not Kevin's idea of a perfect life, but it's better than going back to the life he no longer has... no college future, no girlfriend, and no mother. He's alone save for the three that look after him.

Sam leads their little group into the place, the entrance beneath a hill that sits a ways from the building. It's similar to an old factory or plant, though only from the outside. Inside there are flags on the walls, machines lining the central room's walls, and numerous rooms off of that. They spend most of their time in the library, but this place was built to house an army in a functioning environment. Dean loves to linger in the kitchen, probably the only one of the four that can cook. It was one of the best things he brought out of his year of retirement. Though he was content with Lisa and Ben, the woman he was fond of and her son, he was never meant for an 'apple pie' life. It was best for him to leave and have Castiel wash their memories of him.

Sam descends the spiral staircase in hurried steps, the metal clattering beneath his movements, and enters the huge central area to stop at the lit up table. It was more or less dormant before the angels fell, but went crazy when they did. Dean had to cut the alarms when they returned. There are still a lot of lights on the map built their, however there isn't much they can do about it at this moment. There are no angels to go up against Metatron, so they've been searching for another way. The answers are most likely on the angel tablet, yet Kevin has only had a week or two with it and this time the boys aren't rushing him. Last time they practically ushered him right into Crowley's arms, a mistake they aren't prepared to make again.

"Kevin?" Sam calls. "You still here?"

"Of course I am," the genius prophet calls back from the library. "I rarely ever leave. The only people I even _want_ to talk to _live_ here... and sometimes I don't even want to talk to _them_! Speaking of which, what the hell took you so long? Did you at least stop and get groceries while you were lingering about town?"

Sam smirks and sets a few bags on a coffee table. They're packed with fruits and vegetables, a few different types of meats, canned goods, and boxes of dinner mixes. Castiel is right behind him with some more, his eyes wide with that childish curiosity he so often portrays. Dean, however, is still on the balcony above. His eyes roam over the half played games of chess and the stained coffee mugs left behind in haste. It never seemed right to clean them up, erasing the former presences that lived within the bunker before them. He's always wondered about the people that last set foot here; who were they, what were they doing here, where did they come from... things like that. He's never been the type to think deeply on things at first glance, but he was far deeper than he let on at times.

"Dean! Get down here and help put this shit away!" Sam calls.

"I'll be right there," he answers. "Just give me a few minutes... and don't touch my kitchen! I have it set up just the way I like it!"

"Then get your ass down here!"

Dean rolls his eyes and heads down the spiral staircase, sighing a bit as he scratches at his shoulder. He had noticed his skin was peeling on the way here, yet told Sam he just had a sunburn. He doesn't know why he didn't just come out and say something, the disbelieving look on the taller male's face almost had him breaking from his lie... or stammering to make matters worse. The burn has been a dull ache that's plagued him all day, the material of his shirt's sleeve rubbing against the irritated skin harshly. At one point in time the need to cast off the covering was nearly unbearable.

Castiel is pulling some vegetables from the bags, eyes pinned on Dean for only a moment. He's noticed the way the other has been acting, a strange sense of wariness settling within his mind. It isn't normal, the way the other is acting... he seems evasive and worried. Though it isn't easy to spot at times, it's getting easier to read the green-eyed hunter. Those impossibly blue orbs check to see if Sam shares his discovery, yet he's disappointed. The younger hunter is preoccupied with the canned goods, searching the cabinets for a spot to place them. The older hunter immediately pulls a can of green beans from his younger brother's hand before he can just set it down where ever there's room.

"Those go over here in the pantry," he murmurs. "I'll do it, just go... busy yourselves elsewhere. Like I said, my kitchen is set up _exactly_ how I like it."

"If you say so," Sam smirks.

Dean learned a while back that Sam does this on purpose, sets things where ever he sees a spot. It's so he'll get kicked out and Dean does all the work. The older sibling doesn't mind, he prefers stocking the kitchen himself. Sam roams away from his brother, smirking at Castiel as he goes. He's been reading through the books in the library and probably wants to continue with his self appointed mission. Dean ignores Sam's footfalls as they grow more silent. He sighs in content and grabs the bag of cans, entering the large pantry and setting them on a middle shelf. The pantry is large, fit to stock for an army, and the shelves have been meticulously organized to suit Dean's needs. He had spent an entire week planning out how to set up his kitchen, so he's not about to allow another to ruin it. As he rummages through to match up the cans, he doesn't notice the presence at the door. A couple more bags are set beside the last one, mostly boxes and a few more canned goods.

"... Cas?" he questions without turning around.

"Yes."

"Uh... you don't have to help," Dean remarks nervously. "I got this, man. Maybe you can help Kevin with something."

"I'm not here to help you," Castiel comments in a knowing tone. "You obviously don't like people messing around in the kitchen. I'm here to talk to you. You've been acting strangely since you woke up and I want to know why."

Dean swallows almost audibly, ignoring the little voice in his head screaming obscenities at him. Castiel moves closer and the hunter's hand misses the shelf in his distraction, almost dropping a can onto his foot before he scrambles to catch it. It's so quiet within the space, one that seems to grow smaller by the second, that it's easy to feel the building tension. The can is caught by Castiel, who carefully hands it over. His fingers brush the skin of Dean's hand, a blush blossoming on the hunter's face as heat flows through his veins. Deep down he knows something isn't right, he knows a dam was broken and there's no way to patch it up before the flood drowns him... but he wouldn't be Dean if he didn't try until his last breath. He opens his mouth to lie his fool ass off, however no sound leaves his throat. He tries a few times with the same result. Both his mouth and throat are far too dry, the need for water pressing against his mind even as the need to be touched by the other strengthens. Finally, he decides to try and talk around the truth. He'll worry about the inability to lie to a now human Castiel later.

"I'm just... not feeling like myself," he states smartly.

"That's the problem," Castiel points out with a raised brow. "When you aren't acting like yourself, you're lying to everyone around you. Sam told me about how you acted when you sold your soul. He mentioned this is the same as then."

"So now you guys are talking about me behind my back," Dean glowers.

Castiel gives him a no-nonsense look, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of turning this around. He's worried about the green eyed hunter, he's not about to let Dean make him feel guilty when he's the one in the wrong. The brunette crosses his arms over his chest, his brows dipping in a subtle glare. He's not moving until they talk and Dean knows that by his stance.

"It's nothing to worry about," Dean sighs in exasperation. "It was a freaky dream, nothing more. Nothing huge happened in it, okay? There were no gods, no goddesses, no vampires, no demons, no supernatural creatures of any kind. Just me and another _human_ in a hotel room, that's it. Do you want to hear about my sexual encounters next, because this is getting into _extremely_ personal waters."

"Any problem can be considered personal," Castiel nearly snaps. "My conflict with Raphael was personal, yet you found it necessary to pry in that! I'm worried about you, Dean! Isn't that what you told me? Family protects one another and sometimes you just have to trust them, whether they have a good reason for their actions or not."

"Exactly," Dean frowns. "So trust me... nothing is wrong."

"And when will it be wrong?" the former angel growls. "When you're minutes from death? When it's too late? When everything has escalated to a point no one can save you? I don't want to wait that long, Dean! I want to fix it _now_! When everything is still small and manageable!"

"There's nothing to fix, Cas!" the hunter snaps. "There's nothing wrong. My health is fine, I'm not cursed, I'm not the target of some deranged psychopath... I'm _fine_. It was just a _dream_! One that made me very uncomfortable and confused, but a dream none the less! Now I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay? I don't want to have to sort through all my emotions, it makes me physically ill."

Castiel opens his mouth a couple more times, wanting to argue further and thinking better of it. He sends Dean one last worried glance, and then leaves the pantry to find Sam or Kevin. Dean waits a long while, letting out a huge breath of relief when he feels it's safe enough. For reasons unknown to him, his hormones were going haywire in the presence of Castiel. He couldn't help but think about that damn dream, wondering if the other would really be that good. He could hear himself swooning in the back of his mind, something completely instinctual demanding he melt at the sound of his friend's voice. He shakes it off as too much caffeine and not enough sleep, his mind always gets freaky when he does that, and goes back to stocking the pantry.

"Did you get some asparagus?" Kevin calls from the island in the middle of the kitchen. "I thought I asked for some, but I can't remember. Oh! Did you get more coffee?"

"Yes and yes," Dean says.

"What's with Castiel? Did something happen between you two?"

The younger male steps in the doorway just in time to see the shiver of pleasure that travels Dean's frame. He raises a brow, yet says nothing about it. It isn't difficult to feel the tension between them, see the looks passed when the other isn't looking, and even a blind man can tell there's an underlying emotion the two share. If only the knowledge managed to leak through their oblivious minds and open their eyes. Since the green eyed hunter didn't notice Kevin's astute features, he continues with the conversation as truthfully as possible.

"Something _did_ happen, but not between us," he informs. "We found a weird coin all the victims' murderers were wearing before they went crazy. We thought it was a cursed object, but facts pointed to a siren and they don't work with those. I fell asleep holding it and... well... I was asleep for a long while I guess. They think I'm lying to them or hiding something... Cas isn't taking that well. I told him what happened though. Short of going over my dream with a fine toothed comb of detail, which is _so_ not happening, I can't give them any more."

"Can you at least give me the cliff-notes?" the other questions curiously. "I mean... you don't have to, I'm just curious."

"... I thought I was waking up from a nap at first," Dean comments thoughtfully. "Like I wasn't dreaming at all. I was in our hotel room, right where I fell asleep. Sam wasn't there, but... Cas was. He said Sam burned the coin and was out looking for the siren. We talked just normal shit at first, but then... things got weird. I got hurt... burned... and that's when I woke up. That's it. Nothing more."

He turns to see Kevin eying him thoughtfully. It's a look Dean has come to be wary of, as that genius brain can draw correct conclusions from very little information. Like when he knew Crowley had him held captive because his Dean and Sam imposters were too nice. The uncomfortable look on Dean's features doesn't help him in any way, it just tells Kevin there's something in that information he's hoping the other doesn't realize. After a moment, the raven haired male shrugs and picks a few boxes out of a nearby bag.

"Sounds to me like nothing happened," he comments as he hands one over. "Although, I'm sure it would make Sam and Castiel feel _much_ better if you promise to tell them if anything weird _does_ happen... and actually follow through when or if it does."

"That should be obvious by now," Dean scoffs. "Nothing ever goes right for us."

"And how many times have you and Sam been truthful with each other?" Kevin inquires knowingly. "Besides, if you can't talk to your brother who _can_ you talk to? You should be able to tell Sam anything and vise-versa, that's what family is for isn't it?"

Dean sighs and allows the small amount of help for now. Kevin isn't so bad, he's like a much younger Bobby... only Asian. Dean likes how he drops hints, yet still stays out of a person's business. The dark haired male sighs and brushes a hand across his head, his hair cut short against his scalp since he was first kidnapped by Crowely. He's grown accustomed to the cut, it helps keep his view unobstructed when he's leaning over a tablet. He's three inches shorter than Castiel at 5' 8", which means Dean can breathe easy with the knowledge he's not in danger of becoming the shortest person in his family of misfits. Growing up with Sam was a little bit of a let down once the other shot up like a weed and left him close to the ground. Though he should be used to Sam towering over him, he can't help but feel overjoyed hes not longer the shortest in their group. It feels good to look down on people once in a while.

"You know... you can tell me anything and I won't break confidence," Kevin remarks out of nowhere. "I'm really good at keeping secrets. I mean... Castiel talks to me all the time and I haven't uttered a thing he's told me."

"... Cas talks to you? About what?"

"When he first came, he used to talk to me about Heaven and what it was like up there for him," Kevin shrugs. "Just stuff that weighed on his mind, family problems, emotions he's not used to. I helped him through it. I mean, you're not the most compassionate person toward him, though I think I know why, and Sam... well... he tries so hard, but he isn't really as close to Castiel as you are. I was someone on the outside looking in, so I helped a lot more than you two thought you did."

"... What did he say?"

"I'm not telling you! The whole point of bringing it up was to prove I can keep a secret, idiot!" Kevin scoffs. "I just wanted you to know I'm a safe person to talk to. I won't judge you... there's been enough of that lately."

Dean nods and give a silent exhale, his heart weighing at the thought of Castiel actually _needing_ to talk to someone... someone that wasn't him. He shakes it off quickly, scolding himself for being such a chick about it. Kevin is quiet the remainder of their task, watching Dean every now and then while still not making an issue of it. It gives the green-eyed male time to think. The time is appreciated greatly, the silence no longer too heavy to bare. In fact, it's quite comforting. It's strange how different it can seem in the company of certain people.

His mind drifts lazily through his random thoughts, landing back on the dream and how it's affected his reactions within Castiel's presence. It's frustrating, the way the world seems to vanish to leave only the two of them there. The phantom feeling of Casitel's hands all over him, his lips pressing firmly against his own, almost drawing a moan from the hunter. In the back of his mind, however, he reminds himself Kevin is still within the large pantry and keeps quiet. He eventually becomes lost in his thoughts, his hand rising to scratch at his marred shoulder. That's when the younger man startles him from his inner musings.

"Dean, what happened to your shoulder? It's all red and bloody."

"... Bloody?"

"Yeah, have you been scratching it all day? Come here so I can look it over in the light."

Dean gives him a strange look, but allows the other to lead him to the island counter and the bar stools there. He's wary of Kevin seeing the thin gold lines in his skin, hoping the blood covers them well enough. Though, had he not been bleeding there would be no need for patching up. Just now, the sting of the burn and the wash of blood become apparent. His sleeve is wet and sticking to his shoulder, raw and painful as though struck with a lit torch. When he doesn't pull off his tee shirt right away, the younger male taps his foot impatiently. A thought occurs to Dean as he pulls his shirt over his head. He voices it with a confused and curious tone.

"So what are you, the nurse now?"

"_Someone_ has to be. I've seen the injuries you and Sam come back with all the time," Kevin admonishes. "I took some online courses so at least _one_ of us will know how to stitch a wound... and _not_ with dental floss and a fish hook. I swear, the way you two mend yourselves it's shocking you haven't died of an infection!"

"Well... whatever works, I guess," Dean shrugs.

The prophet grabs a few red towels, bought for the color just in case they're needed for this, and sits down next to Dean. Carefully, he washes the blood away and studies the wound. He was right to assume they were from fingernails, the thin tracks cut roughly proof of that. In all honesty, the moments he scratched at his shoulder so badly are lost upon the hunter. He simply doesn't recall digging his nails through his flesh with such careless pressure. With a sigh, Kevin rummages beneath the sink for a moment and pulls out a fancy first aid kit. Dean wants to ask where he got it, yet knows better. He either asked Charlie to pick it up or bought it himself. The wiry male dabs alcohol on the open cuts, listening to Dean hiss in pain. Afterward, he spreads a cream on the area and lays a cotton square over it. As he reaches for the bandages, Sam and Castiel enter.

"What the hell, Dean!" Sam utters in shock. "What happened?"

"Probably nothing," Castiel mumbles a bit bitterly.

"I scratched too hard," Dean corrects with a bite. "Ask Kevin, he's been taking medical classes online. I wasn't attacked, okay? If anything weird happens I'll tell you about it, anything at all... even if I lose a random tooth."

"You swear?" Sam frowns.

"I swear."

"You swear on my life? Keeping in mind, I really _will_ seal the gates to Hell if you lie."

"I swear on your fucking life! Leave me the hell alone!"

Sam seems content with that, nodding before joining Kevin. Castiel stays in the doorway, ever silent and watchful. The gaze upon broad shoulders does nothing to still Dean's libido, the heat within those eyes drilling into his very core without trying. Whether or not he's completely imagining it all has yet to be discovered, though he has no desire to delve into such personal emotions.

The taller Winchester checks over Dean's shoulder, shaking his head at his brother. He doesn't notice the slight tremor that travels his frame from the feeling of blue eyes upon his back. Kevin doesn't either, too busy shooing Sam's hands away so he can continue with the small patch job. Once he's finished, Dean wanders off to his room for some quiet time. Sam shrugs his shoulders and returns to his reading, leaving Castiel with Kevin.

Kevin is quiet a long time, turning to pull a couple beers from the fridge. It's an invitation and Castiel knows that. He sits across from Kevin on one of the stools that line the island counter, taking the offered beer and waiting for the other to speak first. This is how it usually is, it's been this way since Castiel lost his grace. Kevin drinks deep from the dark bottle, he's not twenty-one yet but that hardly seems to matter in their lifestyle. As he waits, he can hear Sam turning pages in the library. Footsteps are still echoing down the halls as the older hunter makes his way to his room, the lights overhead buzzing in rhythm with the machines in the other room. Finally, he sighs and glances at Castiel's downtrodden form.

"You're seriously worried, aren't you?" he asks.

"Yes, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you, apparently. I can understand, a bond like the one you two have from pulling him out of Hell can't be easy to shake off. No matter how many times he dies and comes back."

"It lasts for all eternity," Castiel shrugs as though it's trivial. "Many angels have gone through it... I once heard one of them say they could feel their human's emotions through three lifetimes. I had thought it was astounding, they weren't soul-mates after all. Cupids were forbidden to link an angel with a human in that way."

Kevin keeps his mouth shut, the other way past having to be reminded he's no longer beneath Heaven's thumb. He drinks a little more, mulling over what Dean had said before. He's definitely not stupid, he has a perfectly clear idea what Dean may have dreamed about. Obviously, he's not about to ruin the trust he's instilled in the other. Especially not when there's so much more to talk about, so much more he needs to get off his chest. The older hunter is by far the most difficult to get talking, which means this first-time triumph is a starting point Kevin can't afford to lose. Castiel can see the cogs working in his mind through his eyes. It's easy to see that Dean spoke with the other about his problems, a flash of hurt hitting the former angel harder than he's like to admit.

"He talked to you?"

"A little bit," he shrugs. "Cliff-notes really. Of course, cliff-notes were always my way of studying. Not that _he_ knows that."

"What did you pull from them?"

"Whatever dream he had was embarrassing and unexpected, but had a huge impact on him," Kevin sighs. "Nothing dangerous, definitely not the work of any creature I know... just personal stuff. That's all I'm giving you, Cas. Sorry. I don't tell them what you tell me and I'm not gonna tell you what they do."

"I understand. I'm just glad to know he's not in danger... at least not yet. Sometimes creatures that invade dreams don't leave... they linger to feed off their target. If that's what's happening, we need to catch the signs of weakness before it's too late."

Kevin nods in agreement, though he's positive Dean will be fine. They go back to small talk, something they've both come to appreciate. It's never about anything serious, leaving the thought of hunts and enemies outside the bunker. Normally the weather comes up, things learned within the various books there, or maybe what certain artifacts were used for and how they were made. The later is normally information Castiel remembers from the time the objects were created. They can hear Sam flipping pages in the library, oblivious to everything around him. So lost in the information, the end of the world couldn't possible get through to him now. Anything thoughts on Dean and his strange behavior are pushed to the side.

Dean lies back on his bed and tucks his hands beneath his head. His room is his haven, one he's never really known before finding the bunker. Decorated in weapons and cleaned to the perfection of a soldier, just like he was taught, it's difficult to tell it belongs to the slightly disheveled male. He has a bookshelf on one side of the room and a long table on the other, a chest at the end of his bed for his clothes, and a chair he left in a corner for the angel he had hoped was still alive. When he searched for this amazing healer for Sam, he was all but putting his entire stock of faith in them. When Castiel walked into the room, however, his heart soared so high he thought he'd never come down again. Sure the ill feelings of betrayal still lingered, yet they were nothing compared to the elation of finding the other alive and well. Nothing has ever struck him so strongly, save for the despair that drowned him in misery when Sam died. He sighs and erases the thoughts from his mind, turning to something a bit more mundane.

He'll have to fix dinner soon, but for now he can relax. There's a beep over on his table, his eyes straying to the laptop that sits there. He used to use Sam's laptop, but after the fifteenth time he messed it up with porn pop-ups Sam forced him to get his own. He thought it was fucking hilarious, the look on his younger brother's face was priceless! He turns and sits up, moving over to the table and leaning down to rest his forearms on the hard wood. The sound was an email alert, one sent from Charlie, which he opens with a smirk.

"How'd it go?" he scoffs as he reads. "I'll tell you how it went."

He quickly types a reply with hasty taps of his fingertips on keys and sends it off, about to go back to bed when a chat bar pops up. He pulls out the chair there and seats himself, sighing at the almost urgent feel to her exclamation. Everything is always urgent with the little redheaded hacker, her ability to dramatize and overreact never failing to amaze. He relays what happened, leaving out a lot of detail when it comes to his dream, and waits for a reply. It isn't long before questions about the coin pop up and he gladly describes it, overjoyed she's not making a fuss about his sleeping habits. A few minutes later, which Dean spends resting his head on the table lazily, she remarks on the designs and sends a few links.

"Holy shit," he mutters. "That's exactly what the pictures looked like."

She's told as much, to which she sends a few more links. She warns him to be careful and tell the others about this, apologizes for the careless job she did before and promises to not repeat it. Before she had just skimmed newspaper clippings and magazine articles, but now she'll be doing more in-depth research to help out. It's greatly appreciated, the tedious chore of searching for jobs gladly passed on to someone else. Irritation drawn from the entire situation has nothing to do with the woman that placed them in it, however she won't listen to that. Charlie has to go anyway and he doesn't mind, he has reading to do. As soon as she's off the net, Dean clicks on the links. He isn't too far into them when his eyes go large and he utters a quiet 'fuck'.

Dean never came down to start dinner, so Sam is in charge of it tonight. The smell of homemade beef stew wafts throughout the bunker, drawing rumbles of hunger from those present. It's one of a few recipes he learned from his older brother, one of his favorites. The bubbling liquid within the pot is the only noise within the kitchen, a bowl of salad on the island counter awaiting the table, and Sam is just pulling out the bowls and spoons to set out.

Castiel is playing chess with Kevin, something the younger man spent days patiently teaching to him. He's turning out to be an extremely quick learner, which is a relief for Sam and Dean. With Kevin using every inch of his patience to teach Castiel about human interaction... with the occasional not so helpful input from Dean on sexual situations and comments... the former angel is showing talent in reading people without needing to say a word. The brothers have begun setting him off to the side to watch as they interview people and suspects, letting him take mental notes on their behavior for later use.

"Okay, dinner's done!" Sam calls. "Someone go get Dean."

"I'll go," Castiel remarks.

He's gone before anyone can say anything more. He doesn't rush his steps, merely keeps with a steady gait. There isn't a single thought running through his head that doesn't concern Dean, his worry only strengthening with each possible outcome this sadistic creature might look for. It's always been this way, the overwhelming worry that takes hold upon a new threat. He never understood it, still doesn't, and yet he's compelled to protect the older Winchester. At first, the duty lain upon him by his elder angels was the cause. After a short amount of time, however, he realized it was all him. There was simply no way to push aside the need for contact... for that righteous presence that set his Grace ablaze. A strange shiver passes through him, one he isn't familiar with.

By the time he reaches Dean's door, his stomach is sick with nerves. Castiel gathers himself and knocks on the door, waiting only a moment before opening it. He's not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this silence. At the most, perhaps there should've been Metallica blaring from the speakers of the stereo bought a couple states over after a job. Instead, the room is still. The fan above is moving slowly, the quiet whir nearly soft enough to overlook, and there isn't a bit of trash on the floor. After the wrappers and bags from fast food cluttering the impala's backseat, this is a new side of the older Winchester Castiel never knew about. He steps into the spotless room, glancing about for the one he seeks. Dean is sleeping on his table, his laptop dead beside him. With a sigh, Castiel plugs in the charger like Kevin showed him and reaches over to lift Dean out of his chair. The other doesn't even flinch as he's lain in bed, the blankets pulled over him before Castiel leaves just as quietly as he came.

Sam and Kevin are at the table waiting, surprised when the former angel returns empty-handed. Castiel doesn't say anything more than 'Dean was sleeping', sitting down to eat with the others. Sam shrugs and dishes out the food. He's not a gourmet chef, but he's not bad at cooking. He had to learn when he was in college. Then again, a few lessons from his once retired brother didn't hurt any. It's when they're just beginning the meal that he asks Castiel about his brother.

"He was sleeping," Castiel repeats with a slight shrug. "I put him to bed and came back here."

"You didn't try to wake him?"

"Sam, if he didn't wake when he was picked up, I doubt he would wake if Cas tried to shake him," Kevin remarks. "He'll eventually get hungry and come down, no sense in worrying about it."

Sam relents, shaking the feeling of incoming dread. Dean can handle himself, he's proven that multiple times. Besides, he wouldn't want his older brother bothering _him_ like this. He'll back off and hope Dean has the sense enough to ask for help if things get ugly. Though past experiences dictate he should probably stay two inches from the other at all times, Sam is willing to add a couple inches for his brother's sanity. Silence reigns over the table as they eat, all of them glancing toward the doorway throughout the meal in case Dean should show up.

The green-eyed hunter wakes with a start, surprised to find himself in his bed. The lingering scent of mint and summer teases his nose, something he never would've noticed before his strange dream, and he knows instinctively that Castiel was in his room. It sends a warmth through him that pools in his gut, his sex stirring at the feeling before he squashes the desire. Through the bombardment of the most disgusting things he's ever seen, he makes the sudden realization that his computer was on when he fell asleep. He looks over at the device quickly, afraid someone might have seen what Charlie sent him, and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds the screen black. It died before his haven was intruded upon by the former angel. He gets out of bed, wondering if Castiel placed him there or if he might have missed the scent of his brother, and heads downstairs to silence his growling stomach. The others are still seated at the table talking, their bowls empty before them.

"About time you came down," Sam frowns.

"Did you put me to bed?" Dean wonders groggily.

"Not me, Cas did. We sent him up to bring you down, but you weren't stirring a bit."

He mumbles a thanks to Cas as he sits down, avoiding eye contact easily. He had another dream, though he can't remember what it was about. He knows without a doubt, however, that if he looks at Castiel he'll blush to the point of passing out.

"Is something wrong, Dean?" Castiel inquires.

"N-no, nothing."

The trio looks him over suspiciously, yet lets him be for now. Kevin knows what's wrong, he's positive about his earlier theory now... Dean is acting like a high school girl with a serious case of puppy love. He smirks to himself, going back to his book before anyone can notice. It serves the player right, a good does of karma after sleeping about and breaking so many hearts along his travels. Sam, on the other hand, is worried. Dean's never acted like this. He's not ready to see what Kevin does, as he's never come across something like this in his brother. The older hunter doesn't settle down, he doesn't fall in love, he never gets serious... so how could Sam know. Dean avoids the eyes around him, cursing himself for acting strangely. He can't help it though... that nap was more than sleep deprivation and he knows that without a doubt now.

* * *

There you have it! Chapter 2! For those of you that also read my Bleach fanfics, I've just started rereading Born to Shadows, so I'll be able to begin writing the end to that once I'm done. Sorry it's taking so long, I just haven't felt like writing much =( I'm trying my best T^T As for my other fics, we'll just take them one at a time, okay? I'll try my damndest to write for two fandoms, but no promises... I might have to go one fic at a time from now on! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! DX

Dean: Calm down, Vae! Charlie will be back, I promise!

Sam: I really don't think that's what she's yelling about.

Dean: There's no way in hell she's upset about needing to quit the Bleach fics. That white demon is enough of a reason to hightail it. =(

Sam: Just because you don't like him doesn't mean she can't. You're best friend was a vampire, after all.

Dean: ... He's on the top of my hit list. *evil grin*

Sam: *shakes head* Keep dreaming, bro.


	3. When the Past Bites You in the Ass

Hello my lovely readers! I hope you're all enjoying my first Supernatural fic =) I'm sure I'll get better as I go, but right now it's probably not as good as I hope. That's okay, practice makes perfect, right? Anyway, I don't really have much to say today. My mom is getting better... or she's supposed to. I started another Supernatural fic titled 'Flawless'... you'll have to wait for that one. And I'm going to pick another request start writing. If you haven't messaged me about missing your name by now, your fic must not have been that important to you... or you didn't request something in the first place ;p All right, I'm going to finish this up and start writing the next chapter for this. In case you're wondering... it's chapter 29 XD

Sam: ... Don't you think that's a bit long? =(

Dean: No kidding, man! How much trouble can we get into in 29 chapters?

Vae: *grinning deviously and rubbing hands together*

Dean: ... Dude, the only thing missing is the devil horns.

Sam: I'm beginning to doubt our lucky streak in her hands. T^T

* * *

Chapter 3: When the Past Bites You in the Ass

Sam has had enough. It's been twenty-four hours since they left town and Dean has been increasingly snappish toward Castiel, almost as though the former angel has betrayed him one more time and it was the breaking point. Of course, it doesn't help that Castiel won't let up on the hunter. He's positive, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that something is wrong with Dean. The two stubborn males are driving Sam nuts. He's found temporary peace in the library with Kevin, the other lounging on a couch and reading. The lights are buzzing as their faint glow fills the room, the smell of old books filling the large room with ease. It's the most relaxing smell the former college student has ever been around, something to remind him of studying and tests... of friends and a normal life he never got to finish. He loves his brother and loves saving so many people, but that craving for knowledge and normalcy will forever haunt him.

"It won't last forever," the young man assures. "Eventually, they'll realize what's _really_ going on and stop all the bickering."

"The problem isn't the bickering, Kevin," Sam sighs. "It's the fact I think Cas is right... Dean is hiding something from us. I know he said he's fine and I know I said I'd give him room to breathe, but I feel it just like Cas does. He's getting _extremely_ good at following his gut, though I wish he wouldn't hold onto it like a pit bull."

"If Dean needs us, he knows we're right here."

"He'll need us depending on the circumstances of the problem," the other snorts derisively.

Kevin is about to ask what he means, but there's a crash of something breakable... most likely a glass... and Castiel retreats quickly into the library. Dean is hot on his heels, a look of almost feminine wrath upon his face. Sam stifles the humored snicker rapidly. It won't pay to have his older brother notice, that wrath will only widen in radius... and targets. At the moment, the green-eyed hunter is gripping tight to a book. The threat of throwing it is in those pools, lit with a furious storm of anger at the moment, and blue eyes return that expression with challenge and annoyance.

"I told you I'm fine!" Dean shouts. "Leave me alone, damn it!"

"You're not fine! You're acting completely out of character!" Castiel argues. "You're locking yourself in your room, you're acting nervous and fidgety, you're having nightmares no matter the time of day or night you doze off, and you're sleeping more! Have you even _thought_ about going out on another job?"

"Stop reading so much into it, Cas, I'm just not feeling well," Dean frowns. "You were right, is that what you want to hear? You were right! Not sleeping for so long made me sick! Are you happy?"

"No, I'm not happy. I don't want you sick, Dean."

"Then let me sleep it off and nurse myself back to health! I don't need all this stress right now!"

In a huff, Dean turns and marches back to his room. The book is abandoned on the long table in the middle of the library, Castiel visibly relaxing once it's out of Dean's hands. The interaction is surprising, though they've gotten in plenty arguments before. Normally it's the older Winchester pressing the former angel for answers, not the other way around. Sam is wide-eyed, unable to make sense of the scene that's unfolded before him, however Kevin doesn't remove his eyes from his book. This time the two notice. Castiel sits on an armchair near the prophet, glancing at Sam in question before they both turn on the younger male. The silence has gone from companionable to tense, something that doesn't go overlooked.

"You know what's going on, don't you?" Sam accuses.

"I know a little... it's just a theory, though. We talked, he told me some stuff, I pieced it together," Kevin shrugs. "It's no big deal, you know. Nothing to do with a creature as far as I can tell. I'm reading up on the different abilities right now to make sure."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam frowns.

"I don't gossip, Sam," Kevin remarks with a glare. "When someone trusts me with a secret, I don't blab it all over the place. I keep it. He's not the only one that's told me stuff I haven't passed on, you know. It's not detrimental to his health at the moment, so leave it be. If I turn up something, _then_ I'll tell you."

Though they want to argue the point further, the two sigh and sit back in their chairs. When they had all gotten together after the fall of the angels, they had thought it a great idea. Now, seeing that they're nothing more than four bullheaded men that refuse to give ground... it's not looking so promising. Of course, they would never break up. They're family and as dysfunctional as it may be, they'll always be there for one another... they're all each other has anymore.

Dean sighs and gazes at the screen in irritation. He has no idea what to do now. He's not in trouble, so there's no need to embarrass himself by telling the others what Charlie found yet, but he can't ignore the fact that something might seriously be wrong with him. He can't hide _that_ either, as the more he dreams about Castiel the greater the fact his emotions are getting the better of him becomes. He can't face those emotions, so he'll keep snapping at Castiel to push him away. He just can't be hurt like that, he wouldn't be able to survive it. This isn't like when he had to have the former angel wipe Lisa's and Ben's memories of him, they were regular people in a normal life. He cared for them, but he didn't get as attached to them as he has Castiel.

"Dean, are you okay?" Kevin asks through the closed door. "And before you ask, I'm alone. Since I'm the only one _not_ irritating you, I've been voted the mediator."

"Lucky you," Dean scoffs.

"Can I come in?"

"I suppose."

The dark haired male opens the door with a sigh and closes it behind him. He seems a bit irritated, though not because of his visit to the hunter. He was in the middle of translating when implored to speak with the other, so he'll have to find his spot all over again. Dean is stretched out on his bed, his arms tucked behind his head and his green eyes staring at the prophet questioningly. It's a strange look to see upon his features, as he's normally so certain and confident. Right now, deep within green eyes, there's a small flicker of emotion the other can easily place as 'lost'. Kevin pulls over the rolling desk chair and sits down, regarding the hunter for a short moment.

"You're not being very nice to Cas, you know," he remarks. "Your attitude is driving Sam crazy... he sees it as a sign you're hiding something."

"That's because he's paranoid."

"No, it's because it's true," Kevin frowns. "I may not know everything, but I _do_ know you're crushing hard on Castiel."

"I am _not_!" Dean snaps. "I wasn't before... it's not my... Gah! This is ridiculous! Why am I even _talking_ to you!"

"Because I won't blab it all over the safe-house," he points out. "Besides, I already had a feeling you two were avoiding that revelation. Your dream just solidified my theory. I haven't told anyone, by the way."

Dean mumbles a quiet thanks at that, yet he's still unnerved anyone would think he has those feelings for the former angel. He's noticed he's always been more sensitive when it comes to Castiel; his betrayals always cut deeper, his opinions always stung worse. He never thought it could be anything quite like a crush, though. He's always had an eye for the women. Then again, looking back on his actions, he can see that he checked out just as many men as he did women. He had contemplated his sexuality as 'bi' a few times in his youth, yet never made an attempt to experiment on it. His former attitude toward it was 'it was a bigger playing field', something that appealed to him greatly... does so even now. He silently curses his hormones and their insatiability. It's entirely possible he's been interested in Castiel for much longer than he's realized.

"I'm not into him like that," Dean states. "Now leave it alone! I'm just not feeling well, that's _all_. It has _nothing_ to do with that stupid dream or some creature that may have caused it! I'm perfectly _fine_, there's nothing wrong with me, and anything you guys may think is all in your fucking heads!"

"... Whatever you say, Dean," Kevin shrugs. "Just remember, you can't deny it forever. And if you don't start acting a bit nicer to Cas, Sam is going to lock you up until you tell him everything."

Dean grumbles to himself and turns away from Kevin, telling him without words that he's through talking. The prophet sighs and gets up, exiting the room and leaving the hunter to his own thoughts. It only takes a few moments for Dean to come up with a course of action after that... he needs to find Aphrodite. If anyone can undo what's happened to him, it's the goddess that did it in the first place. He sighs heavily and packs a bag, placing his laptop and its charger within the cloth, and then hurries to the library.

As he thought, everyone is in the library. Cas and Kevin are playing a game of chess and Sam is reading through a book of Greek mythology. He shudders at the thought of his younger brother learning of the coin's symbols. At the sight of him with a packed bag, however, they all stare in trepidation. They had made a promise in the beginning of their lives together; no one would leave and they would all stick together from there on out. The fact that Dean is about to jump into his impala and drive off without them, because it's completely obvious by his wary expression he plans to, sends a panic so strong throughout them that they feel as though they could throw up. Sam is the first to speak, trying hard to give his brother the benefit of the doubt and knowing he doesn't deserve it at this point in time. Instead of easing into it as he planned and talking the other down, he holds his breath and jumps right in.

"Uh... Dean... what the hell do you think you're doing?" he wonders.

"I'm leaving," he remarks as he starts his practiced speech full of excuses. "Not forever... just until I'm better. This place is stressful for me, so I'm going to stay in a hotel in town. Don't worry, I'll call everyday to check in. I just... I can't stay around here. I just want to go back to work and I know I'm not ready for that, so..."

"Sit down," Sam frowns before going back to the book. "You're not going anywhere."

"Uh... yeah, actually, I am."

"I'm not letting you leave on your own, Dean," he states in finality. "You wouldn't let me go off on _my_ own if our positions were switched, I'm not letting you. Now go unpack or I'm gonna lock you in our dungeon."

It's said so matter-of-factly that Dean can't help but gawk at his younger brother. He presses his luck and steps closer to the stairwell, only to have a knife thrown his way. The blade sings through the air as it sails through, glinting in the light of the lamps. It imbeds itself in the wall beside his head with a loud thunk, Sam glowering in warning at his stubborn sibling. The older hunter's eyes are wide in shock, looking between the blade dug deep in the wall and a furious Sam. Apparently Kevin wasn't kidding, the taller brother is seriously fed up with the arguing. Kevin utters a sound of shock and rises from his seat, almost knocking the table over with their game atop it.

"That's enough!" he states. "The lack of action has you two so riled you're likely to kill one another! I'd prefer my new extremely _psychotic_ and dysfunctional family not _kill_ themselves out of boredom! If Dean thinks being here isn't helping him heal, let him go into town, it's only twenty miles away. If it makes you feel better, get a room on the other end of town or something! Don't kill one another to prove a fucking point!"

"Kevin is right," Castiel adds.

His cheek is resting in his hand, his elbow on the table. He's watching everything transpire with a hint of curiosity and interest in his blue eyes. He looks almost child-like as he leans on the table. Dean tears his eyes away from Castiel's, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he's afraid the others can hear it as well. Any attempt to quiet the thumping organ serves to make it creep closer to his ears, gaining sound and setting his nerves aflame with anxiety. Sam catches the slight flush to his cheeks, though he chalks it up to a fever.

In the end, Kevin is sent with Dean and Sam starts looking for another job in the town for him and Castiel. Dean is glad he's away from the two main problems, however he really just wanted to be alone. Kevin isn't likely to hover over his shoulder like a finicky parent, so that's a good thing. Maybe he'll be able to weasel out of taking him everywhere with him.

They step outside and toward the impala, the day soft and cool for the season. Gardening isn't really their thing, so wildflowers are the only things that bloom around their secret lair. Their settings are random and left to mother nature to set up. The sky is a rich blue, though not as rich as Castiel's eyes, and the clouds are sparse. Any breeze is soft enough to ignore, the chill upon it unable to be registered if ever there was one to begin with. The impala purrs to life when the key is turned, Dean sighing in relief the moment they drive away from the stress left behind. Though he doesn't want to admit if, it's in the form of a husky voice that does wonders to his libido.

"I'll get the room next to yours," Kevin remarks without looking up from his open book. "I know I'm supposed to stay with you, but I don't see the harm in that. You need time to yourself to think, I understand that."

"... Thanks, Kevin."

He nods and turns the page, falling into silence once more. For the first time in a week, Dean feels free. He's determined to forget this strange and sudden... in his opinion... attraction to Castiel. The minute he gets his room and drops Kevin off at the library, he makes a beeline for a bar and hopes to either locate Aphrodite or a curvacious distraction.

Dean sighs and downs another drink, his search turning up nothing. Sure there's a large line of women just begging for his attention, but he just can't seem to find the lusty attraction he normally works off of. There's so much to distract him; the smell of alcohol and smoke tickling his nose, the soft giggling of the women gazing upon him with lustful eyes, and even the occasional drunken man throwing him a wolf whistle. Okay, that's a new one. Yet all he can think of is Castiel and his firm body, his full lips, his perfect blue eyes, his deep husky voice... Dean's lets his head hit the table hard at the path his thoughts are taking.

"Son of a bitch," he mutters. "I'm supposed to be _forgetting_ that ass, not thinking about him _more_! Aphrodite is such a vindictive bitch, I can't believe she's doing this to me. And for what? A good laugh? When this is all over, those feelings will be over, too. _Then_ what am I supposed to do? Live in regret and shame? This sucks."

He resists the urge to pout, ordering something stronger than the beer he's been drinking. As he downs the first of many shots to come, a busty woman with long black locks slides into the chair across from him. Her full lips are painted red and Dean realizes the color hurts his eyes. Her skin looks so soft and supple, which only serves to make him uncomfortable... it would be so easy to hurt her, she's so fragile and soft. Large blue doe eyes gaze upon him in a sultry manner, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. She's absolutely beautiful, the type of woman he would charm the panties off of in seconds, and yet the urge to bed her lies dormant. It has since the incident with the Amazon, his mind over thinking every flirtatious gaze and lustful smirk. What if this is another of them? What if they end up pregnant, too? What would he do if they're something far worse? The questions plague him horribly and kill any arousal that may have addled his brain in the past. This time, however, he _needs_ this. Needs the distraction and confirmation of his sexuality. He turns all his attention onto the woman sitting across from him.

"My, aren't you a handsome man," she comments. "Are you here all alone, honey?"

"Yes," he mutters. "I'm looking for someone... specific."

He adds the last word quickly, hoping it'll dissuade her attempts at picking him up. It doesn't, just makes her a little more interested. She entwines her fingers and sets them in front of her lips. It makes her look a bit sinister, though Dean realizes it's a typical move from the majority of the women he's picked up. An attempt at being sultry, no doubt... albeit a poor attempt. He downs another shot, stopping after a moment. His head is too warm, he hasn't felt the beginnings of being drunk for many years. As Sam had mentioned before, it's impossible for him to get drunk anymore... it's like a vitamin by now. His head is dizzy, lurching about randomly as he fights to stay seated on his chair.

"I need some fresh air," he mutters.

He stumbles from his chair, grasping a table before forcing himself onward. A small voice in the back of his mind screams that this is a bad idea, tries desperately to remind him of something he knows he should be aware of. Unfortunately, he can't seem to focus on the tiny voice. The woman that was sitting with him hums to herself, grabbing her purse and following with a smile. Outside, Dean falls to the sidewalk. His world is spinning far too fast. He glances to the right and catches sight of a man in a trench coat and a taller male in jeans. He can tell even through his blurred vision that they're Castiel and Sam. The two are quite a ways away, but they're hurrying to his side. Their voices are so distant it kills any hope of them reaching him, their figures blurring as his vision starts to fail him. The woman from the bar steps out, gripping the back of Dean's collar and lifting him as though he's a feather. Her free hand swings down to press against his chest, his green pools catching sight of a familiar brand on her wrist. The screech of tires sounds and a black van rolls toward them, the woman throwing him in without care to any injuries he might get. By the time Castiel and Sam reach them, the van is plowing down the street recklessly.

"No!" Sam yells out as he grips his head. "I _knew_ we shouldn't have let him go off on his own!"

"He wasn't, Kevin was supposed to be with him," Castiel points out.

"I should've gone with him _myself_! How are we supposed to find an unmarked van with... wait... did you see that woman?" he wonders suddenly.

"Yes, she was very beautiful," Castiel comments, a hint of bitterness hidden in his tone.

"No, I mean... she lifted Dean up like he weighed _nothing_," Sam comments. "Last time that happened, we were up against Amazons and... oh no! They tempted Dean then, too! He hasn't had sex since they used him to have a kid and sent it to kill him!"

"... What? When were you two going to tell me Dean had a child?" Castiel inquires a bit affronted.

"He doesn't, I killed her," Sam waves off. "Come on, we have to find Kevin so we can find Dean!"

Castiel blinks in confusion, yet heads off after Sam anyway. The night is anything but still, the town thriving in the nightlife, and they have to dodge many people roaming the sidewalks. They find Kevin walking along the street with a few books, his eyes wide in curiosity when they rush him. The expressions upon their faces tells him something is wrong, yet he can only assume it has something to do with their job. When he's told about Dean's disappearance, his jaw drops in surprise. He pulls the two after him and toward the impala, which Dean had been driving before the abduction.

Back at the hotel, Kevin grabs up a newspaper and then pulls out his laptop. He lays the paper down and turns the laptop around for them to read, bringing up the older articles from the town. Sam sits down and looks them over, frowning at the sight. He had looked these very disappearances over before in hopes it was a job, but nothing ever came of them. Now that he looks at them more closely, he can see where he was wrong. There are four men; a surgeon, an athlete, a banker, and an architect. All are successful, all are brilliant, and all were taken a week apart. Dean marks the next victim, taken exactly a week after the last.

"They've gotten smarter," Sam sighs. "They're not leaving the bodies strewn about after their daughters murder them. They'd need a quiet place to work, someplace away from prying eyes where others aren't likely to go."

"Like an abandoned warehouse?" Kevin wonders. "I can tell you with certainty that there aren't any here. There are a few abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, but nothing like a warehouse."

"Where are the ones no one could hear you screaming from?" Sam asks.

"... That doesn't inspire much hope," Castiel frowns. "Dean will be okay, won't he?"

"He will if _we_ have anything to say about it."

Dean groans and lifts a hand to his head. His sight is still blurry and he feels as though he's on a horrible hangover, but he's alive and he's glad for that... for now. The mattress beneath him is lumpy and smells of mold, the springs under it digging into his back, and he carefully gets up to take in his surroundings. He's in a jail cell, the iron bars blocking off his only exit. His bed is a worn mat on box springs, there's a sink across the area from him with a leaky faucet and cracked mirror, and the toilet is behind a cloth divider. It's night out, he can tell from the moonlight pouring in through the barred window, and the street outside is just so quiet he knows there won't be any rescue.

"You awake, kid?" a man calls.

"Who's there?" Dean asks nervously.

"My name's Eric, I'm a surgeon at the hospital nearby," the man answers. "I was abducted last week. We were wondering when the next guy would turn up... didn't know you'd be so damn young. Are you okay? Are you injured?"

"My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton," he mutters. "And it's pounding. What the hell happened?"

"We were approached by a beautiful woman at the bar," a second man scoffs. "We woke up here. Not much more to tell you, other than you're now locked in a poor excuse for a brothel."

"... What!" Dean shouts.

"We're their toys," he comments. "They drug us up, tie us to a bed if need be and use us in whatever way they see fit. There's a bunch of little girls running about here, some of them are brought to the cells and taught how useless men are... it's disturbing. I think we were kidnapped by a cult or something."

A third man hushes them quickly, footfalls in the darkness alerting Dean to someone coming. A door opens and the lights turn on, blinding him for a moment. He blinks aside the spots, glowering at the dark haired woman that stands before him now. She smiles, the look completely evil now that he knows what she is. And though there was a small amount of doubt at the bar, there's nothing but certainty within his mind now. He doesn't know whether to be disgusted or infuriated. To think that they'd have the nerve to use him again after they lost more than one of their number last time.

"Dean Winchester," she states a bit impressed. "I've heard of you, such a potent little stallion. We searched quite a while for you, Dean. Rumors of your offspring traveled all over the different Amazon sects. You're a keeper, that much is certain."

"Gee thanks," he says. "It's always nice to be wanted. I just wish it weren't by poisonous vipers such as yourself."

"So, the rumors were true... you _do_ have a mouth on you."

"I've been told it can do amazing things," he smirks. "Too bad you won't get to know if that's true as well. I don't plan on staying long."

She laughs, a horrid sound filled with venom and mocking. Dean can feel the chill roll off her as though she's a block of ice. A few other women walk in, all of them watching him with hungry eyes. He briefly wonders just how much potential his daughter showed to get this reaction. A couple whisper among themselves, too low for him to tell what they're saying. They're all beautiful, just like the others, with a variety of styles. One has short and spiky raven hair, stripes of different colors within the locks. Her outfit is more Goth, although she carries a superior air about her. He can make out a hospital pass sticking out of her pocket, telling him she's likely to be a nurse of some sort. The one beside her is taller, long blonde curls and designer clothing. Her makeup is perfect and she reminds him of the Victoria Secret models he's seen on television. The last is shorter, but her figure is a perfect hourglass. Her hair is cut in a brunette bob that almost touches her shoulders, a pair of thin glasses upon her nose, and she's in a business suit with a short skirt. A police badge is on a chain around her slender throat, sending a shiver of dread through him.

"What's going on here?" Dean asks. "Why did you kidnap me?"

"Our sisters have had a lot of trouble keeping the men in their lives in line... namely hunters," an older woman states. "After we saw the potential your daughter showed, we realized _some_ gene pools might be better to keep around. We've been abducting men for years in the towns we've visited, keeping them alive and using them until they can't perform anymore. Once they've been over bred, we get rid of them. It works much better than killing a man immediately after having his child."

"I thought that was the initiation."

"It was, but we've found other ways," she says meanly. "Count yourself lucky, you'll be given pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. Every man's dream. And it won't even kill you... yet."

Dean glowers at the woman, noting that one of them is watching him more studiously then lecherously. When she arrived he can't say. She's young with shoulder length blonde hair and large blue eyes. There's something about her that strikes Dean as familiar, yet he can't place his finger on it. They bid him a good night, promising to use him soon, and then they start to leave. Although, not before pulling Eric from his cell. The man thrashes and tries to fight, but they subdue him and drag him off. Only the blonde woman from before stays, keeping guard as she gazes upon Dean in contemplation.

Sam and Castiel walk down the street, searching for any sign of Dean. So far, they haven't found a single woman they could peg as Amazonian. Sam is losing hope and Castiel is so worried he's closed back in on himself. They're in poor shape, both of them know that. The street is deserted, the occasional group of people shuffling about. It's mostly for those attending the raves held within abandoned buildings, that way they're less likely to be kicked out by the cops. Kevin is back at the hotel, searching for any clues that could link the disappearances to a single area.

"Don't worry, we'll find him," Sam says for the umpteenth time.

"You don't sound too convincing,"

"... Let's just keep looking."

They turn the corner and head further, silence reigning between them in the wake of total hopelessness. There's someone walking toward them, a petite woman with shoulder length blonde hair. She doesn't stop, just walks between them. Her actions are odd and Sam takes a closer look at her... she could be considered an Amazon, if only she had the mark they all carry. Sam glances at her wrist, hoping it'll be bare to show it off... it isn't. Cursing silently, he reaches to stop the woman.

Before he can touch her, a car horn blares and he's pulled away from her figure to dodge a drunk driver. When he turns back, the woman is gone. Castiel is just as surprised as him, which tells Sam he wasn't looking at her either. With a growled curse, he slams his foot down on the pavement. That woman could've been their only chance at locating his brother, yet they allowed her to slip from their fingers so easily.

Dean is startled awake by a door slamming, a few women wandering in with trays of food. The other men imprisoned there are wary, but eat the food provided. Dean kicks the tray back the way it came. His defiance is obvious, the woman in charge glowering angrily at her new stallion.

"You would do well to eat," she comments. "We don't want you malnourished."

"I'm insulted," Dean states. "You abduct me for my genetics, but you don't think I'm smart enough to know you've drugged the food? Or at least _suspect_ it? I'm not eating or drinking anything you give me... I'd rather die here in this damn cell."

"You'll be weak enough soon, it won't matter what you want. Your wants and opinions stopped being relevant when I spotted you in that bar, so get used to it."

They leave the food lying outside the cell, the majority of them heading out in a huff. Dean waits for a long while, seating himself on the cot once the door closes. A purse catches his eyes, a cell phone resting within it, and he feels something in his sock. He pulls out the lock-pick in surprise, having forgot he put it there to begin with. He can't risk leaving, as he has no clue how many Amazon are here, but he can get a call out. He quickly lets himself out of the cell and grabs the phone, dialing up Sam.

"Hello?" the taller Winchester asks uncertainly.

"Sam, it's Dean!" Dean whispers harshly. "You're not gonna believe this!"

"You've been kidnapped by the Amazons!" Sam comments. "We've been looking for you all night, but haven't found a single clue!"

"Dude, shut up!" Dean hisses. "I'm in some sort of prison. It looks like it was abandoned or something. I'm not the only one here, either. There are four other guys here. Those crazy bitches are using us for sex slaves!"

Sam is about to say something, but Dean gasps and the phone goes dead. He didn't mean to hang up on his brother, but he has to delete the number from the phone and put it back. Afterward, he rushes to his cell and shuts the door behind him. He no sooner sits on his cot that someone enters the room. They're chatting with one of the other girls, moving over toward the abandoned purse. Dean watches the dark haired woman leave again, calling back a farewell for her pal, and then he locks eyes with the blonde that strikes him with a bit of familiarity.

"Don't worry," she murmurs as she looks through her purse. "You won't be aware of anything, I promise. Unfortunately, help won't be coming soon enough for you, Dean."

He blinks in shock at the woman, unable to decide how to take that. On one hand, he's overjoyed he won't be aware of them pawing all over him. On the other, this woman sounds like she's giving him a borderline threat. She picks up her purse and heads out, sparing only a single glance back at Dean before shutting the door. He lies back on his cot, his hand dropping off the side. After a long moment, he frowns and reaches beneath the bed to feel around. The springs are loose and easily broken off. He glances at the mirror... he could shatter it and use the pieces as a weapon. He can hear the movement from the other prisoners, his determination only growing at the sound. They need saved and he can't wait for Sam to show up. He steels his resolve and stands up, walking toward his mirror. He can barely see his reflection in the dim morning light, it shows resolve... but also fear. He won't let those women win... not this time. He won't go down without a damn good fight.

* * *

Poor Dean. Now would probably be a good time to tell you guys that I tend to torment my favorite characters ^^; Just in case you haven't figured it out by now or you just started reading my work. I know, I know, it's a horrible and sadistic habit... but they get off pretty easy with me compared to some of the fics I've read. I usually try to stay away from angst and character death... I don't like to cry and I always bawl like a baby.

Dean: ... Which one is her favorite? *whispering*

Sam: I honestly don't know.

Dean: I say we bale now. We call Cas for some extra protection, find a hex bag she can't locate us with, and a weapon that can gank her.

Sam: Dude, she's a human not a supernatural creatures. =(

Dean: I'm officially listing 'fangirls' as a supernatural creature! Let's get the fuck outta dodge!


End file.
